For the Love of a Lady
by Jaguar2
Summary: Spike meets a lady and changes her life.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: The Buffy verse and most of the characters in this fic (apart from Lucy) all belong to Joss Whedon et al. I'm never going to make any money from this- I'm just writing it because I love it! However, the story and Lucy are mine.

This is my first ever fic, and it's a WIP, so reviews will be greatly received. Thanks! It's set before the end of S7 is known about.

__ For the Love of a Lady ****

Prologue

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Sometime in the future, Sunnydale

It looked like a normal street, in a not so normal town. Bad things happened here, and where bad things happened, evil gathered. Where there was evil, there was also good, and those who faltered on the thin line between the two.

Many tears had been shed at this place- she could feel it. The whole area was tinged with sadness, grief, pain. It was difficult for her to stand there and feel it wash over her, penetrate to her very core. The moon was shining high in the sky, and the streets were deserted, but to her they were not empty. She could feel the spirits, feel the ghosts of people who weren't saved. The slayer couldn't save everyone.

The slayer. How had that girl managed to save so many strangers, but let so many close friends go? She couldn't quite believe how the bogey monster of the monsters could do that. Could let him go.

People as old as her weren't supposed to feel anything, yet she felt a lone tear flow down her cheek, cold as her body, cold as death. She turned away, and found herself winding her way towards the graveyard. The place where she was supposed to feel at home, the place where her sire was remembered. She felt a strange draw to it, as though even in death he was pulling her to him. Looking around, she found herself stood in front of a small wooden marker, not a cross, because that would be wrong. Kneeling down in front of it, she saw the words inscribed on it, and they sent more tears streaming down her face.

Reaching out towards the plinth, she traced the words, and then bowed her head, the letters imprinted on her fingers and in her mind.

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Spike, William. He was loved.


	2. Chapter One

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Part One

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London, England, 1915

Life had never been so dull. So boring. Always the same thing, nothing ever different. Working as a seamstress for the city's aristocracy had its benefits, free material and some of the finest used dresses you had ever seen, but it also had its downsides. Aching fingers, needle jabs, long hours.

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What I need is a rich husband, and a seamstress of my own, Lucy thought. She had a dream where a man with a large salary came into the shop to order a gown for his wealthy, ageing mother, and caught sight of the beautiful Lucy, slaving away. Of course, he immediately whisked her away and made her his wife, and they lived happily ever after in two houses, one in the city and the other in the country, surrounded by acres and acres of land.

Lucy sighed and was jerked out of her daydream when her needle slipped and drew blood. "Damn," she swore, dropping the veil she was working on and putting her finger into her mouth. The other girls in the shop stared at her, and she stared back. She didn't know how they managed, keeping a low profile every day, not opening their mouths, yes sir no sir, whatever you say sir. She frowned and picked up her work, rethreading the needle.

Boring.

"Lucy, can I see you please?" The voice of Lucy's supervisor boomed out of her office.

Lucy put down the veil and entered the office. Her supervisor, Mrs Hawthorne, and the manager of the business, Mr Moor, were sat looking at her with stony faces. She held back a scowl as she greeted them and sat down, silently raving at why she had to call them mister and missus when they could call her by her first name. Just because she worked for them didn't mean she was beneath their station. It didn't give them the right to treat her like dirt.

"Lucy, we've noticed that the standard of your work has been going down recently," Mrs Hawthorne said. "We've had a number of complaints regarding the garments that you have been working on."

Lucy's scowl broke out onto her face. She might hate working in this place, like this, but she loved the work that she did. She loved being able to mend things and make things using just a needle and thread and some material. She always took the utmost care in her work. "But, Mrs Hawthorne, I've been working hard all this past month! All my dresses passed the inspections."

"Not according to the people who you've been working for," Mr Moor said. He stood and paced the room. "We have no room here for people like you who don't take their jobs seriously, Lucy, you know that."

"I do, sir, but…"

Lucy's eyes widened when her supervisor took out a dress that she had been working on just last week. She peered at it, and it was a mess. The handiwork was crooked and was not the piece of any trained seamstress, let alone anything that she would do!

"I didn't do that…"

"You're denying that you worked on this dress?" Mrs Hawthorne's voice was sharp and not impressed. Lucy sat upright in her chair.

"No, I worked on it. I just didn't work on it like that!" she protested. "I would never do anything as…as…unprofessional as that!"

"Well, it was yours, and I must say we have suffered badly because of this. Our clients have been questioning the calibre of our girls, and the company cannot tolerate this sort of effort. We're going to have to let you go Lucy. We'd like you to leave as soon as possible." Mr Moor glared down at her.

"You must be bloody joking!" Lucy exclaimed. The other woman gasped, and Lucy put herself in check. "I'm sorry, but I did not do that! Wait, just sit there! I'll show you!" She ran out into the work area and picked up the veil she had been working on. Disbelief ran through her body, making her shake with anger. Her careful stitching had been undone, replaced by hurried, scruffy stitches. She ripped it apart in her hands and threw it onto the floor.

Hush descended as Lucy raged. "Who did this? You bitches! The lot of you!" A few concealed giggles spread around the room, and one of them stood up, pointing a finger at Lucy. Lucy recognised her as Molly, one of the newer girls.

"You come in 'ere, and you lord it over the lot of us, you snobby cow. We'll be glad to see you go," Molly growled at her.

Lucy's anger boiled over. OK, so her family had once had a lot of money- once. So maybe she had a better accent than they had, maybe she'd known the luxuries of life when she was a girl. But not anymore, not since Lucy's father had gambled it all away then put a gun in his mouth.

"How dare you speak to me like that!" she yelled, and swung for the other girl. Her clenched fist connected with Molly's chin, and she staggered backwards. "Anyone else want a go?" she cried into the crowd. No one volunteered, but she felt a strong hand on her arm. She whirled around to be greeted by Mr Moor.

"I think you should collect your things and leave, right now Lucy," he said through clenched teeth.

"Fine, I will!" Lucy grabbed her bag from under her table, and out of sight of the others, shoved in a dress she'd been working on earlier. Mr Moor tugged on her sleeve and dragged her out of the building, throwing her out onto the streets.

"I don't want to see you back here!"

"I wouldn't come back here for any sum of money, you bastard," Lucy spat. She picked herself up off the ground, brushed down her skirts and turned away, bag swinging in the late afternoon breeze. "The lot of you! Bastards!" she shouted, at no one in particular.


	3. Chapter Two

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Part Two

"Bloody women, bloody bloody women!" A loud, Cockney voice slurred through the night. The owner was holding onto a large jug of what looked like beer, and staggering through the streets. "Bloody Angelus!" The man yelled, launching his drink at a nearby wall. "Poofter. Look, he made me loose my drink." He looked up, around, searching for what he was looking for. His eyes settled on a sign saying 'Goat and Duck Tavern'.

"Great," he muttered under his breath, and made his way towards the door. When he entered, the patrons inside feel silent. "Look, all I want is a drink," he said, to everyone and to noone. "Now get me a whisky." He wound his way over to the bar and sat down on a high stool.

As he waited for his drink, Spike's head span as he tried to make sense of what had happened to him. After their time spent in China, he had though that his and Drusilla's relationship was stronger than ever. Killing that slayer had been a good move- Dru had been very impressed and had been at his beck and call for months. Willing to do anything for him. Anything. But Darla- Darla was another story. Nothing either of them did held her attention, and eventually Dru had had one of her blinding flashes of insight. Darla was missing Angelus! Silly prat had gone and got himself cursed with a soul, and Dru had said that Darla felt it was all her fault. In fact, it was Angelus' fault for being such a ponce, and now he had gotten what he deserved. Spike has taken the place of the man in the group, and had tried to make up for Angelus' leaving by being even more evil than usual, but nothing had worked. Drusilla had decided that the only thing to cheer Darla up was to go on a rampage across the South of Europe. Girls only. No men allowed. So here he was, stuck on his own in the middle of London, drinking to himself.

"Women!" he exclaimed out loud, and a number of men sat around him raised their drinks in appreciation.

"Aren't you looking for a little company tonight, sir?" a soft, very feminine voice came from behind him. Spike downed his drink and turned around. He was met by a girl, about 18, with blond hair and blue, blue eyes. And breasts that were pushed up so high by her undergarments that if someone squeezed her around the middle, she'd fall out.

"If you're from the female side of things, no. Can't you see, I'm trying to enjoy a drink, on my own, wallowing in my self pity. Or are you blind?"

"All I see is a lonely man, looking like he needs a bit of loving." She placed a hand on his leg and her fingers crawled up higher. Spike slapped his hand down on hers and gripped it tightly, not tight enough to break bones, just to scare her off.

"I said, I'm not-" His sentence was cut off when he saw the look in her eyes. Her body was saying that she was good at this, experienced, but her eyes gave her away. She was frightened. Spike sniffed at the air and he could smell her panic. "So, look at me, I've stumbled upon a whore house all by myself. Dru would be so proud."

The girl lifted an eyebrow, and Spike waved his hand. "Shall we go somewhere a little more private, pet?" She smiled, and his stomach pulled tight, just for a second. She looked familiar, the tilt of her nose, the curve of her cheek. Spike shook his head. _Probably ate her sister_, he thought to himself, taking hold of her arm and leading her out of the tavern. As soon as they turned a corner, he tightened his grip and dragged her into a dark alleyway.

"Please, mister, you're hurting me," she whined, trying to struggle out of his grasp.

"What did you expect, this job, gonna get a bit of rough and tumble." He pushed her roughly against a wall and leaned into her. He could taste her fear on the back of his throat, feel her heart pounding, see the rise and fall of her chest, far quicker than it should have been. He'd been here before, and he'd be here again. The minutes before the feed were always the most exciting for Spike.

"Sir, please, we have to do a deal."

"Later, later," he said, placing his arms around her waist and moving his body against hers. "There'll be time for that." The girl forced a smile and raised her head to his, expecting a kiss.

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Why not? Spike thought. She's not going to be around to tell the tale in the morning anyway. His lips bent hers and she gave way instantly, probing his mouth with her tongue. He let himself get swept up in the moment- fear and lust only made the blood taste better, so why stop? No good reason Spike could see. He moved his hands upwards and a small moan escaped her lips. She broke away, and dropped to her knees.

"Hang on there, luv," Spike said, picked her up. "I've got a need more pressing than that one." She looked at him with puzzle in her blue eyes, and he grinned, morphing into his vampire face. It was hard to describe how he did it- one moment he knew that he looked human, the next his fangs were out and ready for the feed. He covered her mouth with one hand to stop her from crying out, and with the other tilted her head back, revealing the large, pulsing vein in her neck. It looked so good. He could almost taste it. She was making pathetic whimpering sounds from behind his hand, and they got louder and more frantic as his teeth pierced her skin. Hot, thundering blood coursed into his mouth, and he drank of her. He drank of her life, of her essence, and he didn't stop until she sagged in his arms and her heart stopped beating.

"Nice." Spike wiped the blood off his face with the arm of the brown shirt that he wore, and dumped the body into the nearest bin. "Free food. What more could a guy ask for? Welcome home to good old London, Spike. Welcome home."


	4. Chapter Three

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Part Three

Lucy lay on her bed with tears streaming down her face. She was tough, tougher than her brothers, but even cold people needed to cry sometimes. When it all got too much, Lucy didn't know how she had ever gotten through the last few years. When her father had killed himself, her mother had fallen to pieces. It had been up to her elder brother Thomas to organise the family and, well, organising was not one of his strong points. The little money they'd had saved away from her father's gambling hands had gone in two months, and they'd had to sell their house and all their belongings. They now lived in a two up, two down house in the middle of lower class London, and Lucy hated it. She hated sharing a room with her four younger siblings, and her relationship with her mum was non existent.

And Thomas had turned to the drink the same as her father had turned to gambling. Her wage was the largest amount of money coming into the house, and now it was gone and she didn't know what to do. Her two younger brothers brought in some money when they could, picking up small work wherever it was available, but her sisters were too young to work. Her elder brother was useless, and her mother too old.

Lucy turned over and wiped her eyes. How come it was OK for Thomas to fall to pieces, but when she walked into the house and announced that she'd lost her job, her mother had picked up a poker from the fireplace and thrown it at her. Her arm was blossoming into a nice purple bruise, and it ached like hell.

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Why did it all have to go wrong? If it wasn't for her stupid father, she'd probably be married, but now no proper man would ever want to wed her. What was the point? The family name meant nothing and she had no money, nothing to give to the marriage. She sighed, and closed her eyes, slipping into a black world of dreamless sleep.

When she woke up, the sky outside the window was dark, and her sisters were asleep next to her. Fumbling around in the dark for her shoes, her hand rested upon the dress that she'd stolen from the shop. Holding it up to the faint light coming from the moon, she took in its rich, red colour and the small silk ribbon that decorated the sleeves and hem. She'd been making it for a client's daughter's introduction into society ball, and it was beautiful. Lucy peeked out into the hallway, saw that no one was there and closed the bedroom door firmly. Slipping out of her brown, itchy work clothes, she carefully stepped into the dress, pulling it up and over her undergarments and fastening it at the back.

The expensive cloth made her feel like a princess. The skirts moved around her feet as she swung her hips, skimming the floor and giving nothing away. The cut revealed Lucy's pale skin, quite low on the chest. The sleeves reached her upper arm, and ended in a wash of black silk. The whole dress was overlaid black lace, in an extremely intricate design. Lucy smiled. This was one of the favourite dresses she'd ever worked on, and here she was, wearing it!

She peered into the small mirror that rested on the chest of drawers. Her long, brown hair was striking against the lace, and her green eyes glistened out from her face. Applying a little makeup made her look like she used to look. How she wanted to look again. The look which would attract a suitor, and help her out of this…this shit hole.

Lucy's mouth pulled into a smile as an idea formed in her head. Nobody had to know who she was. She could slip out of the house, and go into town where suitable men would be gathering for an after work drink. She could go into one of those pubs that she'd walked past on her way to and from work everyday, in the better part of the city, and pretend that she was from a wealthy family, but lost and disorientated. Surely some kind man would take her under his wing, and she would smile and be charming and do all of the things that she had learnt to do.

The smile grew wider, and Lucy picked up her purse from where she had thrown it on the floor. She pushed her feet into her best shoes, shoes she had salvaged from the auctions, and pulled on her black coat, also saved from sale. Slowly and quietly, she opened the door and crept down the stairs. Her mother was asleep in the only chair in the room, and she could hear her brother banging about in the other room. _This was just too easy_, she thought, as she slipped open the latch on the door and stepped out into the warm summer night.


	5. Chapter Four

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Part Four

It was too easy, too flipping easy! Spike dropped his third victim of the night onto the ground with a heavy thud. He felt invincible, the new blood from the last whore coursing through his body like a river after the rainy season. And all of the blood was tinged with lust, sex and fear. It gave him a dizzy head, almost like he was drunk. Hell, he was drunk! Drunk on blood! He burped loudly and sat down on the floor of the alleyway next to the girl who had just travelled over into the next world. Spike felt full, and satisfied.

Well, almost satisfied. His hunger was all gone, but he missed Dru. If he was being totally honest with himself, he missed having female company around him, someone as evil and bloodthirsty as he was, someone to share the kill with. Someone to tell him that he was bad, and someone to scream his name in the middle of the night. Or day.

Wouldn't it be great to have someone who worshipped him like he worshipped Dru? To have someone of his very own, someone whom he would save from the doldrums of their pathetic human life. Someone to share everything with while Dru was gone. Someone to sire! The thought had never entered his head before, but after the girls had buggered off, there was something missing in his life. Another vampire, a new part of the family, and now that Angelus was gone there was definitely a position available. Why not fill it with a new vampire? A girl. A pretty girl. A dark, mysterious girl just like his Dru.

Spike picked himself up off the floor and stared out into the night. It was young, and he was sure that there would be many tasty young morsels who would be willing to join him for a drink. Where to start looking? If he was going to make another vampire, then Spike wanted to do it right. Didn't want no stupid cow following him around and whining at him. The whores of the city might be a good place to start. Experienced, looking for a way out, experienced. Yeah, Spike decided. I'll find me a nice, juicy whore with a nice, expensive dress. That'll do just fine.


	6. Chapter Five

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Part Five

Finding a pub where the patrons didn't cat call at her was proving difficult for Lucy. She had thought that the decent men would be out and about, when the only ones that she could find were old and fat and wore a wedding band. She really wouldn't mind if they were old and fat, and long as they were rich. In fact, maybe an old, fat man would be better, because they'd be knocked off their feet when she showed some interest in them. But no, always a ring on their third finger. The night was growing more and more dead. And Lucy was getting nowhere.

She'd almost given up, and was sat in a dark and dingy pub called the Goat and Duck tavern with a pint of that disgusting tasting beer that everyone seemed to be drinking. The last man she'd tried to talk to had left it there when his fat and ugly wife had come looking for him, and now she was sipping it, trying to look at home.

There seemed to be quite a number of girls like her in the place, dressed up in their best threads, and having a lot more luck chatting up the males than she was. She guessed that it was the fact that they seemed to have socks stuffed down the front of their dresses. The men weren't talking to their faces, they were talking to their chests.

"'ello darling, looking for a bit of company tonight are we?" a gravely voice said beside her.

"Well, actually, ye-" she turned around mid sentence, smiling, intending to try and dazzle whoever was talking to her, but was cut off. The man talking to her was short, and he had no hair. Or teeth. His clothes had a thin layer of dirt covering them, and his breath stank of beer and something else she couldn't quite place. She was sure she couldn't place it because she'd never smelt anything as foul as that in her life.

"Then you've found it," he breathed into her face.

"I don't think so!" Lucy said, pushing him away. Her hand came back covered in grime, and she curled her lips up in disgust. "What the hell do you do to get that dirty?" She exclaimed, rubbing her hand over the side of the table.

"Lean in a little closer and I'll tell you," he moved towards Lucy and grabbed her arms, moving in for a kiss.

"Ugh, no!" Lucy cried and tried to struggle away from him. For a small old man he was surprisingly strong, and she couldn't release his hands from her arms. His grip was like steel. "Let go of me!"

"Girls like you, gotta make their living any way they can, including doing people like me."

Lucy stopped struggling and stared into the man's eyes. They were brown, murky brown, dull and grubby like the rest of him. "Wha- what do you mean, girls like me?" she asked with a feeling of dread rising up in her stomach. The man laughed. When Lucy frowned at him, he made a sweeping gesture with his arms and said, "look around. You look sharp, can't you see what these girls are?"

Lucy narrowed her eyes at the man, and then looked around the room, really looked this time. The girls were dressed like her, yes, but at the same time they weren't. Her dress was new, the material shined like good material did, the seams and hems were neat and the edges solid. A blond girl over in the corner had a red dress on that was covered in murky brown stains. A green dress with four large holes in it, a cream one with frayed edges. The faces that glanced back at her were older, wiser, more worn than their bodies looked. Slowly, it dawned on her.

"They're…they're prostitutes?" Lucy said quietly.

The man clapped slowly. "Well done. And by the looks of you, so are you. So come over here and give me some loving." Faster than Lucy could react, he pushed her over sharply, so she was lying on the floor with her legs sticking up in a very unladylike manner into the air. His body crashed over hers, and a sharp pain shot up Lucy's back.

"Ow, you're hurting me!" she cried. "Help me, somebody, please!"

"Nobody will help you here. Each one for themselves," the man whispered into her ear, before his hands began to explore Lucy's body. She tried to plant her legs more firmly on the floor, but she was wedged between the bench she had been sat on and the man's heavy, smelly body.

"Oh, God," she murmured. Panic rose inside her, a burning consuming panic that told her to move. Move! She had to move, to get him off her, had to stop him doing what he was doing. This wasn't happening to her, no, no, no, it wasn't, she wasn't about to get…about to get…

Tears welled up in Lucy's eyes as terror began to consume her. Her struggles only made him hold on tighter and get rougher. Small, pathetic whimpers were coming out of someone's throat, it was her throat, as he found her undergarments and started to rip them apart.

Lucy took a deep breath and opened her mouth. She had intended to scream, but all that came out were desperate sounds, the occasional "help me, please" and muffled screams. This was it, this was happening, she couldn't stop it.

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Oh God.

At some point she had closed her eyes, and as she opened them she saw the shadow of a man standing over her. Her heart jumped into her throat. _Not another one, please_, she thought, before the man on top of her was jerked off her.

"And what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" the new man asked. Lucy looked up and saw him through a thin film of unshed tears- wavy brown hair, brown eyes, the most amazing cheekbones she had ever seen. He looked slightly drunk and very angry. She stumbled to her feet and smoothed down her dress, looking wildly around the room. Everyone was looking at them, and the men had stood up, forming a loose circle, obviously intending to do something about this stranger who had just interrupted one of their own.

"She said no, you idiot. A gentleman should never force himself into a woman in that way if she says no."

"But, she's a…"

The stranger laughed, and it made the circle take a collective step back. They'd heard people laugh like that before, at night in the shadows and down dark alleyways. The type of laugh that you ran away from, ran as fast as you could. Lucy shivered, but stared at the stranger, the man who had saved her.

"Look at her. Just take in this girl. Does she look like a whore?" he grabbed Lucy's attacker by the shirt and forced him to look at her. "This, you pillock, is a lady. A proper lady. Now, take a flight."

And the stranger picked the other man up and threw him across the room. He actually threw him! He hit the wall behind the bar and crumpled to the floor. Lucy took in a breath and caught the stranger's eye.

"Thank you, thank you. Oh God, I can't thank you enough. What he was about to do to me…"

The stranger looked right at her, and Lucy offered her hand. "I'm Lucy."

"Spike," he said, with a strange look in his eyes that almost made her want to pull away. "I'm Spike."


End file.
